


Nick Sayre's Foolproof Guide to International Diplomacy

by rain_sleet_snow



Category: Old Kingdom - Garth Nix
Genre: Ancelstierre (Old Kingdom), Aunt-Niece Relationship, Charter Magic, Clayr's Glacier, Diplomacy, F/M, Families of Choice, Gen, Great Library of the Clayr, Letters, Post-Canon, Relationship Negotiation, Uncle-Nephew Relationship, complicated families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 23:25:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17590400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_sleet_snow/pseuds/rain_sleet_snow
Summary: The story of Nick and Lirael's long engagement.





	Nick Sayre's Foolproof Guide to International Diplomacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ilyena_sylph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyena_sylph/gifts).



There was a welcoming committee for them at the Clayr's Glacier. Lirael took one look and let out a deep sigh, and Nick realised, for possibly the first time, that despite all her confidence in the face of the Glacier's weirder architectural quirks and assorted Dead creatures, his new fiancée found people very alarming.

 

Not a problem. Nick was excellent at people.

 

"Let's pause," he said, tugging gently on her arm. "They can wait two minutes. If we stop behind this rock they can't see us."

 

"Aunt Kirrith has eyes in the back of her head," Lirael said darkly.

 

"But not on the other side of this rock! It'll be fine."

 

Lirael gave him one of those smiles that suggested he'd cheered her up and she wasn't sure what to think about it, and sat down next to him in the shelter of the rock. They still had some dried fruit and toffee left over, and Nick passed her a handful. Eating something usually got people's spirits up.

 

Lirael leaned her head against his shoulder. Nick got the feeling he could spend a lifetime learning to decode her gestures, hints and awkward pauses, but this one seemed to indicate that she was pleased.

 

"Nick," she said cautiously, "about getting married."

 

Nick knew a somewhat more than momentary qualm. "Yes?" he said, ironing it out of his voice.

 

"I don't know anything about Ancelstierran marriage customs. Or about Old Kingdom ones, honestly. The Daughters of the Clayr don't get married. Mostly. Is it something you do... right away?"

 

She sounded dubious.

 

"Sometimes," Nick said slowly, thinking of a few individuals of his acquaintance whose engagements had been very short indeed. "Other times people have a long engagement. Which gives them more time to get to know each other. Sometimes it's a private engagement, kept quietly within the family."

 

Lirael's pause sounded baffled this time. "What's the opposite of a private engagement?"

 

"A, er, one where it's announced in all the newspapers and things, and the girl and her family get a lot of visits, and often there's a party -"

 

Lirael's shudder was so obviously bone-deep and appalled that Nick laughed, and put an arm around her.

 

"I think it's ridiculous too," he said. "And an awful lot of fuss. Maybe it's all right if it really is the biggest event in your life. If it's the most important choice you'll ever make. But it seems like a hell of a lot to do on top of being Abhorsen-in-Waiting, or learning to deal with -" he gestured at his Charter mark - "this."

 

"Also," Lirael said with the frankness he adored, "I hate parties."

 

"Don't worry about that," Nick said easily. "I can be your social spouse and tell everyone you’ve had to go on Abhorsen business, if that's what you like. I'll run interference for you until the sun falls out of the sky."

 

Lirael smiled. It was what he'd been looking for, and it gave him the courage to say: "What would you like to do?"

 

Lirael remained silent for an unnervingly long moment. Nick hoped she was only choosing her words carefully.

 

"I would like," Lirael said, slowly and carefully, "to have a long, private engagement, so we can get to know each other, and decide if - if getting married would be a good idea." She licked her lips, probably not just because she had a bit of toffee stuck to one corner. "You might not want to be married to me. It's - being an Abhorsen, Nick, is a terrible thing. It takes over your life. It is your life. And I - I attract a lot of attention, just by being who I am. I can't seem to go anywhere without being recognised." She bit down on her lower lip. "I was never normal, but now I'm..."

 

"Famous?" Nick suggested. He still had an arm around her shoulders; he leant his head gently against hers.

 

"Notorious," Lirael corrected.

 

Lirael had been a librarian and had taught herself the world through books. Nick was sure her choice of word was deliberate. "That seems fair," he said, keeping his own voice deliberately light. "A long engagement, I mean. After all, you might decide you don't want to be married to a bespectacled Ancelstierran idiot whose tongue runs on wheels."

 

Lirael let out a very tiny chuckle, which sounded to Nick like a victory.

 

"That's settled, then," Nick said, climbing to his feet and offering Lirael his hands to pull herself up. "A long engagement, private within the family. And I swear not to tell your Aunt Kirrith."

 

Lirael laughed for real this time, her voice pealing around the mountains like bells, and they walked down to the welcoming party together.

 

 

 

Their first visitors at the Glacier were Sanar and Ryelle, the twin sisters who seemed to be the principal political powers in the Glacier, and also the Clayr most interested in Lirael's welfare. Lirael was still in the bath when they arrived; Nick exerted himself to entertain them politely. They were watching him through very pointed blue eyes the entire time, so it took a bit of effort to keep up the prattle, but never let it be said a Sayre failed to maintain sang-froid in the face of an awkward social situation.

 

"You made Lirael laugh," Sanar said eventually, after two topics of small talk had been exhausted and Nick was gearing up to heap praise on the central heating.

 

"I - Well, I try," Nick said, caught off-guard, and masking it with a wholesome smile.

 

"Lirael didn't _talk_ for several years," Ryelle said, further surprising Nick. Lirael had given him a brief outline of her life at the Clayr's Glacier, but she hadn't made it sound that bad. "Smiles are unusual and laughter is unprecedented." She smiled mischievously at Nick. "You must be doing something right."

 

"Long may it continue!" Nick said heartily, making a mental note to investigate Lirael's childhood much more closely, and engaging both sisters in an interesting discussion on the management of political power in an egalitarian society.

 

 

 

Next came the slightly dubious honour of receiving Lirael's Aunt Kirrith. Nick had gathered from earlier experiences that Lirael had a fractious relationship with her aunt, but even if he hadn't previously been privileged to witness Lirael losing her temper with Kirrith he would have guessed that they didn't get on from the way Lirael paled and fled the room when a sending came to tell them her aunt was outside.

 

"You've gone to bed and aren’t to be disturbed," Nick said, hastily hiding their half-finished chess game and tossing Lirael the book she had been reading earlier. "You might be a little bit under the weather! Don't worry, I'll get rid of her, word of a Sayre."

 

Lirael rushed back to kiss him before hurtling out of the room. Feeling as if his lady had offered him a ribbon to tie onto his armour before he entered the lists, Nick straightened his hair and embarked on a significantly greater errand of chivalry: stalling Aunt Kirrith.

 

Aunt Kirrith was of a Valkyrie-like constitution, and seemed very much unused to being told No. Nick, having grasped that her chief principles in life involved a healthy mind in a healthy body and no brooding or anything of that sort, ushered her to an uncomfortable seat beside a very cold window and offered her cold refreshments only, while telling her that Lirael had gone to bed early after their long journey back to the Glacier.

 

"You seem remarkably robust," Aunt Kirrith said.

 

Nick suppressed the sensation that he was being eyed up for market and waxed lyrical about the feats of Charter magic Lirael had performed while he stood admiringly by.

 

Aunt Kirrith began to look grudgingly appreciative, and admitted that her niece had always been a very competent mage.

 

"A talent she showed early on, I take it!" Nick said earnestly, wondering whether Kirrith had enough useful information to make it worth asking the sendings for a pot of tea.

 

"Oh yes," Kirrith said, and launched into a list of Lirael's early accomplishments, interspersed with complaints about her antisocial nature and refusal to make friends with the other girls. She supposed, loudly, that that was just how teenagers were, and thanked heaven that she rarely had to deal with young Clayr after the age of twelve.

 

Nick, feeling sorry for everyone under twelve, decided against the tea and amplified his expression of polite confusion.

 

"Oh," Kirrith said, "of course, you wouldn't know, a typical Daughter of the Clayr gains her Sight at twelve or so. The ability to see the future. After that they leave the Halls of Youth. Usually our family gain the Sight fairly young, Lirael was a dreadful puzzle to me, but we must make do with what we have."

 

Her tone implied that she had made do with Lirael, rather than Lirael making do with her own considerable talents.

 

"Er - no doubt Lirael's mother was a great comfort to her," Nick said politely, wondering if it was too late to poison Kirrith's drink.

 

"Arielle?" Kirrith stared at him in surprise. "No. Arielle ran off when Lirael was a very little girl."

 

"Ah," Nick said delicately, "I see.” He was, in fact, seeing a large number of things that Kirrith hadn't bargained on, like a teenaged Lirael, left behind by her peers, surrounded by much younger children, feeling deficient in a key aspect of her culture, encouraged to feel deficient by her aunt, and, apparently, abandoned by her mother. Although given the quality of the rest of Kirrith's narrative there was presumably more to it than that.

 

"Lirael has just the same high-handed ways as her mother did," Kirrith began. "She used to be quite a meek little thing, if pigheaded, but now she is _convinced_ she knows -"

 

Nick, rapidly reaching the end of his tether, yawned very loudly, politely begged Kirrith's pardon, and explained that he was terribly tired by the events of the last few days and would have to beg her indulgence in making an early night of it.

 

 

 

Sabriel, Touchstone and Sam, mopping up around the Greenwash and the Bridge, were expected two days after Lirael and Nick's arrival. This meant Nick had an entire day left to fill in some more gaps in his knowledge of Lirael, and since he wasn't able to speak to the one individual he knew to have been Lirael's close companion throughout her teenage years - the Dog was probably no longer with them, although Nick reserved judgement - he didn’t have a whole lot of options for doing so. But Lirael had mentioned one person who had been kind to her - the same person, Nick dimly remembered, who had brought her presents when they first arrived.

 

Lirael had been perfectly right about her notoriety. She was definitely everyone's local hero, which made sense, in light of her saving the world. When Lirael decided to go to the Library, and Nick expressed an interest in visiting in order to borrow some basic Charter primers, all he had to do was hang back a bit until Lirael's admirers swarmed her. They mostly had technical questions about the spells she had used and the creatures she had vanquished, and that being the case Lirael seemed a bit happier than usual.

 

"Excuse me," Nick said, with studied sheepishness, to a nearby and familiar-looking librarian. "Are you Imshi?"

 

"Yes!" said the librarian in question. Nick blessed the long hours he'd spent memorising Ancelstierran politicians' faces so that he would know them at a mere glance; the skill was apparently transferable. "Fancy you remembering me."

 

"Well, you are a friend of Lirael's," Nick said gravely, "and she's mentioned how kind you were to her, you know, when she was a new librarian."

 

"Really." Imshi tucked her hair behind her ear. "Well, it was my pleasure. Lirael never needed a lot of help, though. She was at home in the Library from day one." She looked over at Lirael, now deep in conversation with someone talking about the Abhorsen archives, and various halls of knowledge on the Dead, Free Magic creatures, and other assorted nasties.

 

"I was wondering if you could help me," Nick said. "I've recently been Charter-baptised, and I need a very basic primer of marks. Probably a children's book." He grinned at Imshi. "Do you think I could borrow a book?"

 

"Well, you're technically here as a Library asset, at least until everyone sorts out who or what you are," Imshi said. Nick refrained from crossing his fingers. "But Lirael can borrow anything she likes, and we've got hundreds of children's primers, no-one will miss one."

 

"I'd better check if she minds," Nick said, with a lively apprehension for how Lirael might respond to library fraud, and waited until Lirael came over. She was trailing the expert in Abhorsen literature, and a small fan-club.

 

"Nick, do you mind if I go off and see these archives? I know you were looking for some books on Charter Magic."

 

Nick gestured at Imshi. "Miss Imshi here has kindly agreed to help me find some suitably basic books, if you don't mind their being taken out under your name - since I haven't got a library card yet."

 

"Of course not," Lirael said, with a small, shy smile for Imshi. "Imshi won't let you get lost."

 

Imshi saluted sloppily, which seemed to Nick like a joke between the two young women; at any rate, Lirael's smile only grew. Once she had left for the Abhorsen archives, the crowd dissipated, and Imshi led Nick off in search of a very simple primer on Charter marks, talking nineteen to the dozen.

 

From Imshi, Nick acquired the knowledge that Lirael had arrived at the Library a self-conscious and timid fourteen-year-old, very quick at her work and very clever with Charter magic, but without the Sight and without the confidence to socialise with her older colleagues. Despite efforts to bring her out of her shell, she had not responded, and in the end the librarians had accepted her as she was and moved on. To Imshi's knowledge, she hadn't spoken to a single person between the ages of fifteen and nineteen.

 

Nick knew that couldn't be completely true - the Dog had existed - but still, it painted a bleak picture. Lirael had spent a significant proportion of her life cut off from her own society, and no-one had troubled to find out why she had withdrawn, or what could be done to stop it. He knew his own childhood, outside Somersby, had been pretty lonely, but he'd assumed that the advantage of communal child-rearing was that that never happened.

 

Apparently not. Nick practised his Charter marks from the primer very diligently, and tried not to stew.

 

 

Sabriel was just as intimidating as ever, and so was King Touchstone, who looked at Nick like he was a problem. Nick was self-aware enough to admit that he was.

 

Sam came with a Northern girl called Ferin in tow, a completely terrifying young woman short one foot and all sense of self preservation, who had a high respect for Sabriel and Touchstone, a desire to make a sparring partner out of Lirael, and absolutely no opinion of Sam or Nick. Apparently Sam was making a prosthetic foot for her, the same way he'd made a hand for Lirael. Nick liked her for the way she flustered Sam, and especially for the matter-of-fact approach she took to Lirael. The brusqueness took Lirael aback, but she responded to the friendship, and willingly spent hours sparring with Ferin. Nick was not a swordsman but he assumed she was improving.

 

Nick, meanwhile, held materials, took notes, wrote down measurements, and generally acted as an amanuensis, while Sam worked on making a foot. Ferin was supposed to stick around for fittings, but she was not a particularly cooperative patient, and she fidgeted like no-one's business.

 

"Are you staying?" Sam asked.

 

"I need to learn some Charter magic." Nick gestured at the mark on his forehead. "Or this will get completely out of hand. And Lirael and I... have something."

 

Sam hummed.

 

"We're engaged," Nick said, stumbling over it, both the strangeness of admitting it to someone else and the smile that took over his face whenever he thought about it. Difficult to grin and talk at the same time. "Privately."

 

Sam dropped everything he'd been working on and left a scorch mark on the wall. Nick leapt sideways just in time.

 

"I - congratulations?" Sam said, voice swinging high-pitched the way it always did when he was surprised.

 

"She's - she's _something_ ," Nick said, and that grin was still on his face. "I want to make her smile."

 

"Well, if anyone can do it, it's probably you." Sam paused. "Really engaged?"

 

"I have this notion Lirael wants to do some serious research before she decides whether she really wants to marry me," Nick said, "and I have the strong impression she thinks the Abhorsen life is likely to frighten me off."

 

"You're not afraid of anything," Sam said, with conviction. It wasn't a compliment, somehow.

 

Nick folded his arms. "You could at least be happy for me."

 

"I am," Sam said, and now the surprise had turned sideways into his own smile. "If anyone can cheer Lirael up, it's... well, I said, it's probably you."

 

He cleared his throat, and started to clean up after the scorch mark. "You realise you’re going to be my uncle, if this works out."

 

Nick choked on air.

 

 

 

King Touchstone was very busy with government, which Nick was grateful to realise was just as time-consuming as it was in Ancelstierre. The Abhorsen Sabriel frightened him more, but she wasn't at all likely to deport him, and Nick hadn't the faintest idea what he would do if he were sent back to Ancelstierre as a dangerous curio. He couldn't possibly ask Lirael to cross the Wall with him. He would have to sail round, or sneak over at some unguarded gate, or join the Crossing Point Scouts, or fly over on a glider, or -

 

Nick had considered and outlined six different plans for ensuring he could still communicate with (at worst) or live with (at best) Lirael before Sabriel came and interrupted his self-imposed Charter magic study. He had been at it an entire two days with the primer, and felt he was making progress. Sam and Lirael had warded a practice court for him, and Imshi, who was not very good at Charter magic and wasn’t ashamed to say so, had shown him a few simple memorisation tricks.

 

Not that the memorising was the problem. As so often in Nick's life, _not overdoing it_ was the problem. Nick had just created a candle-sized light instead of a bonfire for the first time when Sabriel arrived, and was feeling extremely pleased with himself.

 

He greeted Sabriel politely, and asked after her health, her daughter's health, and King Touchstone's wellbeing. Sabriel replied with suitable gravity, and offered in exchange the topic of his magic lessons. With a start, Nick recognised the well-worn dance of conversation in Ancelstierran polite society.

 

"You must have taught Sam and Ellimere Charter magic yourself?" he said, steering the talk round. "Since they received their schooling south of the Wall."

 

"Touchstone taught Sam most of the early lessons," Sabriel said. Her eyes were obsidian-black, and equally sharp. Currently they looked amused. "Wyverley College offers Charter magic lessons, which is one of the reasons that I was sent there, and why I chose to send Ellimere there."

 

"Ah! So you received your schooling in Ancelstierre too." Nick thought he should have known this. Sam must have mentioned it at some point, for all he didn’t talk about his family much. The papers had probably made something of a foreign queen schooled in Ancelstierre, but Nick had not been in a position to pay much attention to the _Corvere Examiner_ during the period of Sabriel's embassy in Corvere.

 

"It's useful, to know Ancelstierre. I don't think anyone who hasn't lived there can understand it." Those obsidian eyes had turned watchful. "Our relations with Ancelstierre are very delicate."

 

"And I haven't made them any better." Nick felt his stomach sink to the floor.

 

"No," Sabriel said baldly. "And if I'm honest, even though I now have a fully competent Abhorsen-in-Waiting, I do not have the time to keep the Kingdom safe and pacify the Ancelstierrans." She smiled thinly. "I know what I would do if my son disappeared into a foreign country immediately after a serious illness."

 

Nick suspected he also had a good general idea, and that the foreign country probably wouldn’t survive the experience. "So, if I may speak plainly -"

 

"Please do."

 

"This is an ultimatum of sorts. Either I persuade my country and my family to stand down, or you deliver me back to Corvere." Nick suppressed a shudder at the thought of leaving everything - Lirael, Sam, the Charter, this brilliant world he barely knew, _Lirael_ \- behind, and focussed on keeping his gaze straight and honest.

 

"Well done," Sabriel said. She was dressed in a sweeping blue gown, edged with sable fur and golden embroidery at the broad boat neck; she rose from the bench she had been sitting on, and casually rearranged her skirts. "For what it's worth, I give you at least a fifty-fifty chance." Her smile was a razor's edge: if the Dead didn't fear her, Nick certainly did. "And I look forward to working with you in the future."

 

Nick sat contemplatively on the floor of the practice court for some time after she had left.

 

 

 

As they flew south, Lirael shouted over the wind that Sabriel had told her about her ultimatum to Nick. Lirael was not excellent at expressing herself using the spoken word, and the wind was very loud, but Nick nonetheless grasped that shy, retiring Lirael was furious with her intimidating older sister, and might even be willing to raise her voice in anger if given half a chance.

 

Nick felt this would be counterproductive. He leaned forward and grasped Lirael's hand.

 

"It's nothing," he shouted. "If you can save the world, I can do this! Word of a Sayre."

 

Lirael's fingers closed tightly around his. His control was improving rapidly; only a few marks floated loose from the gold.

 

 

Nick started with a succession of letters. One to Timothy at Sunbere, asking if his cricket kit could be sent north and whether he'd been expelled from the university yet, one to his mother and father assuring them of his improving health and explaining that he had been obliged to visit the Old Kingdom for assistance with the Ongoing Complaint of which they were aware, and that he was improving daily, and a third to Uncle Edward. The third was the most difficult to write, because it was the most honest. Nick went through five drafts and a small headache before eventually finishing a subtly twisted explanation of the problem with an allusion he knew his uncle would recognise.

 

_...My experiences at Forwin Mill, as you know, left marks that were difficult to manage but nonetheless manageable; I was able as a consequence to assist with the recent emergency at Dorrance Hall, which was considerably more serious than it first appeared and exacerbated my pre-existing injuries. The Old Kingdom offered immediate and effective medical assistance..._

_We spoke recently of painting. I've found my artist's métier and I hope you will understand._

 

Timothy posted Nick’s cricket bat north express, with a severely decayed note that said he had been bedevilled with secret policemen but had still found the time to stop by the university registry, and Sayre, N, remained a recognised student at Sunbere on indefinite sick leave. His father did not write back, but his mother sent a scented letter to the effect that Nick's antics had sent her to a spa town to recover her nerves, and would he please join her at once to soothe her worries in person. It arrived in one piece, since Nick’s mother favoured expensive boutique-bought paper, but the ink – no doubt machine-made – was faded almost to illegibility.

 

Uncle Edward's reply was written on handmade paper, with handmade ink, and was not very long. It said that, while he took all of Nick's points, he'd need further proof of Nick's independent action than that.

 

"Are you going to Ancelstierre?" Lirael said doubtfully, reading over his shoulder. Sam, wrestling with a large amount of paperwork related to the Southerling refugees that his father had inflicted on him, shook his head vigorously.

 

"I could go in your place," Ferin suggested. She had hit it off marvellously with Ellimere and was now in the habit of acting as Ellimere's sworn sword, which would have irritated the Royal Guard if it weren't for the fact that Ferin relished keeping up with the more antisocial parts of Ellimere's hectic schedule, and disdained all the more glamorous duties. Ellimere had taken to asking her to undertake minor errands she knew would not be well-received. People tended not to complain in front of Ferin.

 

"Thank you, Ferin, but not this time," Nick said, and added: "And I'm definitely not going to Ancelstierre. I'll never get out again."

 

Lirael took his hand. "Are you going to tell them..."

 

About us, she meant.

 

"Not yet," Nick said.

 

 

 

He replied to the letters politely, and made his way south. Lirael came with him. So did Sam. Sabriel and Touchstone stayed put as loudly as possible, in order to make it clear this was not about them. Ellimere detailed Ferin to go with them and make sure they didn’t get into trouble, and Sabriel provided Nick with some light reading material for the journey, which turned out to be a full history of the relationship between the Old Kingdom and Ancelstierre, with some notes on her foreign policy objectives sewn discreetly into the binding.

 

Nick practised his Charter magic. His diamonds of protection were difficult to break, which was, Sam said, positive. The fact that it was tricky to get out of them to visit the privy was not a major concern.

 

 

 

Lirael was perfectly right. It was impossible for her to go anywhere without being fêted, thanked on bended knee, or even mobbed. Ferin stood over her and scowled, and Nick talked at length about the great burden of her fight with Orannis, the terrible wounds she had sustained, and how grateful she was for even the tiniest scrap of peace and quiet.

 

The first innkeeper to understand that the best gift he could give to Lirael Goldenhand was to leave her alone with a book to read got such a blinding smile from that lady that he walked backwards into his own door.

 

"There's definitely something to this cheering up thing," Sam said to Nick.

 

"Knew you'd come round to the idea," Nick said. "Nephew."

 

 

 

Nick's father wrote demanding he return home. The paper had all but disintegrated by the time it reached Nick.

 

Nick wrote back saying that his medical treatment was not yet complete but that he looked forward to greeting his family soon, especially since it had been so long since they'd last spoken. He referred his father to Uncle Edward, and asked after his father's painting.

 

He hoped his father got the point.

 

 

 

They made a point of bumping into a Crossing Point Scout patrol, having left most of the Royal Guard escort behind at Barhedrin. It was necessary to trot rather hard to catch up with the patrol, but the looks on the Scouts' faces were worth it, and Nick was glad he'd done it when he realised he recognised the face of the young officer in charge.

 

"Captain Tindall!" he said brightly. "Lovely day for a stroll."

 

"Nicholas Sayre," Captain Tindall said, looking like he'd seen a ghost. "Bloody _hell_. Oh, I beg your pardon, ladies."

 

Lirael favoured him with a politely blank look. Ferin demanded to know if that was what passed for bad language in Ancelstierre.

 

"I haven't had the pleasure," Captain Tindall began, casting a somewhat wild look at Nick. His sergeant looked like he was torn between laughter and yelling.

 

"Oh, of course," Nick said. "Well, Prince Sameth you already know. Lirael, Abhorsen-in-Waiting, you are also acquainted with."

 

"Though I could wish we had met under better circumstances," Lirael said, too quietly, but at least she got all the words out. Nick beamed at her. Progress was being made.

 

Captain Tindall, at a bit of a loss, bowed.

 

"So I think the only member of our party you don't know is Ferin, sworn swordswoman to Princess Ellimere," Nick concluded.

 

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Captain Tindall said, rather weakly. "Sayre, we all thought you were..."

 

"Dead?" Nick suggested.

 

"No," Captain Tindall said. "Actually, I have no idea what we thought, but after watching you fight and lose against Dorrance's creature, we were all worried we were going to bump into you some dark and stormy night."

 

"The Abhorsen is a bit more efficient than that," Sam said. "And so is the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, if it comes to it."

 

"It didn’t come to it," Lirael said firmly. "Nick is fine."

 

"He is a useless swordsman," Ferin said, judgementally. "But funny."

 

A private laughed, probably half in hysteria. Nick shrugged elaborately. "Well, she's not wrong, is she?"

 

"I wouldn't know," Captain Tindall said. Most of the starch and the fear had gone out of him. "What's the point of this? Are you hoping to cross the Wall?"

 

"No," Nick said. "I'm hoping to write a letter, which you are going to cross the Wall with, for my uncle's eyes only. And Lirael, Sam, and Ferin aren't going to watch me write the letter, so they won't know what it says."

 

Sam was frowning at him. Lirael had that faint off-kilter beat to her posture that suggested she was worried. Ferin, however, announced that no doubt Nick had some very clever plan and stomped off to a reasonable distance away, and Lirael and Sam followed, somewhat reluctantly.

 

Nick sat down and began to compose his letter.

 

"We could just take you across the Wall," Captain Tindall said, after a brief discussion with his sergeant which Nick couldn’t hear.

 

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Nick asked, scribbling busily at an initial draft.

 

"As it happens," Captain Tindall said, "I don't."

 

 

 

Nick received, by return post, a grudging acknowledgement from Uncle Edward that his letters were probably valid and that Francis Tindall's eyewitness testimony as to his good health, fair treatment and continued obnoxiousness helped his cause. (Nick assumed Captain Tindall hadn't included the line about obnoxiousness.) This message also included a line telling him not to snipe at his father, who was not capable of proper self-defence, and saying that future communications should be handled through his uncle. Furthermore, he had sight of a newspaper brought north by a thoroughly rattled trader, which relegated the Disappearance of Sayre Heir to page twelve and explained that Nicholas Sayre had in fact gone north to seek urgent medical treatment that was believed to have been successful, and that previous news stories suggesting he had not left of his own free will were absurd sensationalism. The quotes came from General Tindall and Nick's father.

 

Nick borrowed a map and started researching potential meeting spots.

 

 

 

Sam vetoed the Crossing Point. Too much potential for military disaster.

 

The Royal Guard vetoed any of the other, now disused points. There was no time to vet them properly, considering the increased border activity, and the Charter alone knew what might be lurking around there, considering the Ancelstierrans didn't know how to take care of themselves. ("No offence." "None taken.")

 

It was Lirael who eventually suggested the winning solution: a small island, out to sea, equidistant from the Old Kingdom and Ancelstierre.

 

"The sea wipes all things clean," she said, and added practically: "And there won't be any chance of the Dead on there."

 

 

 

Nick received a note from Sabriel. _Odds now at 70-30. You're doing better than I expected._

 

"Ha ha," Nick said, and used it to plug a draft in the casement.

 

 

 

_Dear Uncle Edward,_

_I think it's time we meet in person to discuss this, and I'd like to suggest the following_...

 

 

 

Nick was alone in the room. As per the terms of his agreement with Uncle Edward, everyone else was outside. He was willing to bet, though, that Lirael hadn't gone very far. Years of creeping around the Library, stealth-reading and defending the Clayr like a red-waistcoated vigilante, had made her very good at sneaking.

 

The door creaked open, and Edward Sayre entered, unaccompanied by secretaries or bodyguards.

 

"Oh," he said, and blinked sharply, as if surprised.

 

"Uncle?"

 

"You do look well." Edward Sayre blinked twice, rapidly. "Far better than you have done since Forwin Mill."

 

"Healthy country air," Nick said dryly. "That and the fact that Ancelstierre can't medicate me for the injuries I received, but the Kingdom can. Dorrance would have had a go, but he'd have killed me in the process."

 

"Well, I'm glad he did not." Edward Sayre laid a few leaves of paper down on the single table. "Wretched little tick of a man. Now, Nicholas, are you going to explain yourself?"

 

"At length," Nick said. "Brace yourself." He took a deep breath, and began.

 

 

 

Uncle Edward had come prepared to be convinced. Nick knew it, Uncle Edward knew it, probably Sabriel knew it. As soon as he'd known Nick was alive, himself, and not under coercion, he'd known Nick wouldn't be coming back. Nick just needed to present that to him in a form he could accept, as a politician, and sweeten it for him, as an uncle.

 

Edward Sayre had not been a particularly affectionate uncle, but he had been an interested one. He'd cared. He'd influenced. He'd advised. That was more than Nick could say for his parents. Nick knew Uncle Edward needed to believe Nick would be happy here, and Nick wanted to show him that.

 

He asked his uncle to invite Lirael in. Lirael appeared, a few moments later, without any of her usual weapons. Nick hoped she'd left the bells with Sam.

 

He saw her for a moment through his uncle's eyes: beautiful, high-ranking and obviously capable, but shy, and looking to Nick for confidence. He smiled and held his hand out to her. She came over and joined him.

 

"You'll know about Lirael," Nick said to his uncle. "If your people haven't put together a briefing for you, I'll eat my hat."

 

"Queen Sabriel's younger half-sister, raised in her mother's closed religious community, a notable scholar, folk heroine and heir to her sister's ceremonial role as Abhorsen," Uncle Edward said, and bowed. "An honour to make your acquaintance."

 

Lirael flushed red, but bowed in return. "It's not ceremonial, I'm afraid, First Minister."

 

"I'd heard that," Uncle Edward said dryly.

 

Lirael visibly dug up the courage she had used to face Orannis, and said rather hesitantly: "I’m pleased to meet you. I know you mean a lot to Nick."

 

Uncle Edward looked deeply startled. "Am I to understand..."

 

"Not yet," Nick said, squeezing Lirael's hand tight. "We met when everything was turned upside down. We don't want to settle things between us until we've had... more of a chance to get to know each other."

 

"Being Abhorsen takes over your life," Lirael said, matter-of-factly. "It defines it. Nick might decide he doesn’t want to be married to that."

 

"Alternatively," Nick retorted, "You might decide you prefer to be married to someone who -"

 

"Has better survival instincts?" Uncle Edward suggested, cutting Nick off flawlessly. "Well. I won't pretend your mother will be thrilled, Nicholas."

 

"If she wanted a say she should have started caring earlier," Nick said, watching Uncle Edward’s face carefully and resisting the temptation to cross his fingers.

 

Uncle Edward pinched his nose. "If you're going to be Ancelstierre's ambassador in Belisaere, you'll have to learn to be diplomatic."

 

Nick let out a careful breath. "I can't possibly frighten the Corvere diplomatic corps more than Queen Sabriel."

 

" _Nothing_ frightens the Corvere diplomatic corps more than Queen Sabriel. You will come as quite a relief."

 

"So it's settled, then?" Lirael said. There was a note of anxiety in her voice that made Nick's heart swell. "He can stay?"

 

"My dear g- my dear ma'am," Uncle Edward said. "It would take a braver and a stupider man than I to stop him."

 

Lirael threw her arms around Nick and held onto him so tightly Nick feared for his ribs - and to Nick's delight, she laughed for joy.

 

Nick awarded himself full marks for the day.

 


End file.
